Crazy
by Candy
Summary: Dorothy reflects on her feelings for a certain someone ;-) READ AND REVIEW PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!


AN:   
  
Candy: Well I'm reeeeeeeally busy with my high school play and other various things (my semi formal is coming up) sooooo I haven't come up with Dear Diary: Part 2 yet. But it's coming... not this weekend, but maybe over Christmas break, or whenever I get a chance to write.   
  
Duo: The AU was actually getting kinda fun!  
  
Candy: (jaw drops) You... you LIKED one of my fics????  
  
Duo: I'm not saying-  
  
Candy: OH DUO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (grabs Duo tight)  
  
Duo: (gag) CANDY! (gasp) AIR  
  
Hilde: (pokes Candy on the shoulder) Can I have my boyfriend back?  
  
Candy: (blushes and lets go) eh heh heh... ANYWAY this is just a little idea that popped into my head. Actually I think my play is getting to me. This could be a monologue actually.   
  
Duo: (still short of breath) Just (pant) write (pant) the story.  
  
Candy: I'M GETTING TO THAT! (bonks Duo on the head with a frying pan) ENJOY  
  
  
Disclaimer:   
  
Candy: I don't own the characters... but I own my cookies. That's it. And they're not even mentioned in the story. BUT THEY'RE MINE BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! THE COOKIES ARE MINE ALL MINE!!!  
  
Quatre: (faints)  
  
Trowa: (blinks)  
  
Heero: God help us...  
  
Duo: WHAT THE F-  
  
Wufei: THE COOKIES ARE MINE WOMAN!!!!!!!!!! (grabs newly baked tray of cookies) BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!  
  
Candy: (chases after Wufei) CHANG GET BACK HERE YOU BASTARD!!  
  
Wufei: HOW DARE YOU CALL ME BY MY GIVEN NAME WO- (slumps)  
Candy: (spins frying pan in one hand and holds tray of cookies) Hee hee... enjoy the story.  
  
Wufei: (slurred) In... INJUSTICESSSSSS (passes out)  
  
  
Crazy  
  
  
Crazy.  
  
That's one word for him.  
  
Crazy...  
  
Now when I say crazy, I don't mean like psychotic... oh no. I don't mean crazy as in "he belongs in a looney bin" crazy. I mean crazy as in "What the fuck is he thinking" crazy.  
  
Don't get me?   
  
Nah, I didn't think so.  
  
He's... crazy. I can't think of another way to explain it. The way he feels for life... the way he feels for death... the way he feels... it's all just crazy.   
  
It's crazy the way he cares for so many people at once. It's crazy how he can forgive without a second thought. It's crazy how he believes that there's a light in every darkened sky... It's just crazy.   
  
He's crazy.  
  
But I'm not speaking negatively. Oh no. When I say crazy... it's not an insult. If I WANTED to insult him, I could do that easily. I mean hey, I'm not the 'Press Bitch' for nothing. If I wanted to insult him, all I'd have to say is, "You're not as innocent as you think Winner, you've killed people... innocent people. You failed space. You failed yourself. You failed your father. You failed..."  
  
But then I'd be lying.  
  
He didn't fail. Never... failing is the last thing he's done.  
  
No, Quatre Reberba Winner, has not failed in the times I've seen him.   
  
Faltered?   
Maybe.  
  
Fallen?  
  
Possibly.  
  
Failed?  
  
No... never.  
  
Quatre's heart is incapable of failure. And it would take a low person to call him a failure... a VERY low person. Even Wufei can't say that Quatre's a failure. He calls him weak. But you can tell by the way his eyes look... he's lying. I can tell anyway.  
  
I wonder if they can tell how I feel?  
  
I wonder...  
  
What? What do you mean you can tell? Bloody likely. You think I hate the guy, right? HA!   
  
How wrong can you get.   
  
Sure, yeah... during the war we had our little... differences. Simply put, I stabbed him. But not because I really wanted to... SERIOUSLY! I did it because basically, the zero system totally fucked with my head. And because... he got too close to the truth... to my truth.   
  
Normally, people don't look into who I really am. I mean you hear about stereotypes every day. But normally you relate that sort of thing to racism, sexism, or ageism, right? Well let's just say, I'm stereotyped. People view ME as crazy. When actually, I'm quite sane. Very sane. I speak my mind. And I don't sugar coat my opinions. I tell it how it is and damn the consequences. So people view me as psychotic... as crazy.  
  
Except him.  
  
That day on the Libra, Quatre paraded through the stereotypes and barriers carrying a banner saying: "I know who you are, so deal." And no one... except my father... has done that for me.  
  
And it scared me... very much.  
  
Have you ever seen a raccoon? Well do you see how it reacts when it gets backed up into a corner? It will retaliate. It will bite. It will chatter. It will scratch. And people can get seriously hurt.  
  
Well, that's what happened to me.  
  
Quatre backed me into an emotional corner. He made me realize that everything I thought, EVERYTHING I KNEW... was wrong. He saw that I was a good person. And he MADE me see it. He MADE me realize how kind I was.  
  
But at the time I didn't want to see it.  
  
I WANTED to be psycho war bitch.  
  
I wanted to please my grandpa...  
  
Still, I suppose, there was a nagging feeling inside of me that whole time. A feeling that I was doing something wrong. And I didn't like it. I mean it physically hurt me. Every time I defended the "glory and honor and beauty" of war... my throat would kind of tighten up. I'd get this slight pain in my chest... and my head would hurt so horribly. Almost as if someone was strangling me.1  
  
I guess, in a sense, my grandfather was always strangling me.   
  
He choked me... from the time my dad died to the time of that battle... he suffocated my thoughts. When he first took me in, he slapped me around for crying. He said that my father would be ashamed of such a weak helpless creature. And at 6, it confused the hell out of me. Whenever I had fallen and scraped my knee as a little girl and start to cry, my father would hold me and rock me until I stopped. Then he would kiss my cheek and say "now doesn't that feel better?" So I was taught that it was alright to cry.   
  
But with my grandfather, it wasn't.  
  
If I even got misty eyed in front of him, he'd beat me.   
  
Hard.  
  
One time, when I was 12, I broke my arm during a fencing match. It hurt so bad that I couldn't help crying. My grandpa got so mad, he broke my other arm and almost broke my neck. He tried to strangle me. All the while, he shouted that I was so weak and that I was useless... After that I never cried again. Why would I want to get upset when I could get angry? When I could get even?  
  
He continued training me in the fencing arts after that. He began teaching me deception. He began filling my head with ideas of war. And I was too afraid to question him.  
  
Yes, Dorothy Catalonia was afraid.  
  
So I guess that's part of the reason I didn't cry when he died. He wouldn't have wanted me to. And frankly, I didn't miss him that much.  
  
Anyway...  
  
As to why Quatre is crazy? He said he loves me.  
  
He loves me... every fucked up aspect of who I am.  
  
Do you believe it?  
  
Neither do I...  
  
Still I wonder... Maybe HE'S not crazy... but I am...  
  
Because, get this ladies and gentlemen...  
  
I love him back.  
  
THE END.   
  
PLEASE R AND R PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)  
  



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